Category: Yes, I am a dork.

A Danger to Myself

Thursday, February 6th, 2014

I am a danger to myself.

In the kitchen.

Here is the proof:

Do they make Ove Glove bodysuits?

Supah Bowl

Sunday, February 2nd, 2014

I plan the following week’s menu and grocery list every Friday.  I completely forgot this was Super Bowl Sunday.

So instead of gumbo, chili, hamburgers or something equally footballin’, I made pot roast and garlic-rosemary roasted potatoes.   Meat and potatoes.   That’s so…American!  Um, like football.  And every damn thing else advertised during the Super Bowl…

Which brings me to why we have the Super Bowl:  commercials!  One word sums up the 2014 roster: disappointment.  The ad agencies sunk to a new low this year, relying on lowest common denominator: patronizing patriotism.  Everything was “truly American” and “yay for the troops.”  Here were the other lowlights:

  • Masarati wins most wasted money.  Those who buy Masaratis do not do so based on television commercials.  Who the hell sees a Masarati commercial and thinks “Yeah, I was gonna buy a Honda, but I think I’ll buy one of those instead!”
  • Subway thought it was a good idea to have health conscious Olympians push a cheese-covered, Frito-stuffed sandwich?  Ridiculous.
  • Axe Peace mocking global despots?  Incredibly naive and stupid.

My only kudos go to TMobile’s commercials: one featuring Tim Tebow and the other with just text.  Both were brilliantly crafted means of conveying the desired message.  That ad agency earned every dollar of its fees.

But what’s even better than the commercials?  THE HALF-TIME SHOW!!! Well, okay, not always… but this year it was!  I’m biased, because I adore all things Bruno Mars.   I loved his energy and tone. And while I was bummed to see the RHCP were co-headlining, their limited appearance was perfect.   Why the RHCP hate?  I haven’t recovered from the horrific radio and MTV overplay that “Under the Bridge” got in the 90’s.  Every time that song came on, I wanted to jump off a bridge.

In the end, I enjoyed the game.  I was routing for the Seahawks, because they have the inspirational Derrick Coleman as well as the key winning indicator: better uniforms than the Broncos.   While there was no contest whatsoever, I appreciated the football this year and did not mind it interrupting my commercials and half-time show.

I would’ve appreciated a good fight or two among impassioned competitors, but that’s okay.

That’s what Olympic figure skating is for.


Falling to Pieces

Saturday, September 28th, 2013

Friday, September 20th and 27th entries preempted by work commitments.  Now, for a do over!

Here’s where I confide in you my current state of cray mind.

I hate September.  There, I said it.  It’s that pesky 30 days standing between Emme-Mommy birthday month and the holiday season.  While I have tons of loved ones with sapphire birthstones, it’s just not my favorite month.   I eagerly await its passing.   After this year’s harrowing, illness-filled, drama-packed September had me ready bid my adieus earlier than usual, I decided to hasten the process.

My first step was to pull out out my glass pumpkin-shaped candle holder and do a quick sniff-by at Bath and Body Works, searching unsuccessfully for the perfect mixture of sugary-free pumpkin and spice.  I’m kind of anal….scensative particular about my candle scents.  I  do this sniffercise every year and usually end up choosing old faithful: World Market’s Mexican Pumpkin.

My second act of denial was to change our fridge calendar a week ahead of schedule.  It’s the MStew wannabe’s way of saying “I can’t see you!  You don’t exist!  Nana-nana-booboo!”    Jury duty (for hubs)!  And garage sale!  And Halloween! Oh my!   It will be a busy month, but they’re all positive events.  Well, with the exception of Dan’s jury duty.  The only awesome thing about jury duty is getting excused.  Luckily, I won’t have that issue for 10 more years.  Big ups to the caregiver of  kiddos 12 and under exemption!  (kow)

Happy Halloween Wreath - Witch Wreath - Burlap Wrapped Wreath -Halloween Wreath

My third, and most sanity-questioning act of saying sayonara September was today’s trip to Hobby Lobby.  I intended to be in and out within 10 minutes.  A torrential downpour had other plans.   It was the Big Cheese’s way of saying “Sloooow down… look around…you mean you didn’t see the Santa ornaments on aisle 4?  Oh no, let’s fix that!  But, first, I see decorative ottomans!” 

$53.14 later, I had two bags filled with pumpkin wreath materials.  Yes, materials for making a pumpkin wreath.  Call off the 5150, I haven’t totally gone over the edge!  Blame it on the P-P-Pinterest.  I traditionally limit Halloween decorations to large bowls of (Magic!) disappearing candy.  Thanks to the daily deluge of etsy-inspired craft-o-lanterns, coupled with ever present small, grabby hands and my expanding bootie, I opted to replace edible decor with door gourdes.

Regardless of how the project turns out, I will post photos next week.

Craft gods willing, you’ll see a fabulously festive mix of burlap, glitter and mesh.

If not, I’ll have snazzy snapshots of crumpled candy wrappers.


Wait, I’m How Old?

Friday, September 6th, 2013

I’ve had an issue remembering how old I am… for the past 3 years.

I will confess to using a calculator when unsure of my age.   While my younger self would’ve told me to invest in some Ginko and do more NY Times Crosswords, I’m discovering it’s a common occurrence among my Gen X comrades.   Some of us even make the mistake of thinking we’re older than we are.  Maybe it’s because we have nearly four decades of random crap floating around our brains.  Or, perhaps there’s a 40’s forcefield shielding us from experiencing the same dread surrounding turning 30.  Either way, aging isn’t a bowl of Cherry Garcia, but it’s not so traumatic or stigmatizing as it once was.

Turning 37 is not so heinous as my 27 year old self thought it would be.

Now for my birthday reckoning.  It’s time to see how I did with those birthday resolutions from last year:

  • Be okay with being thirty-sss…sssiii…sssix. Actually, I’m okay with it only because I can’t really wrap my head around being closer to 40 than 30.   Check!
  • Get back to allergen diet weight.  HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA  Uhhh, I mean “completion pending…”
  • Date my hubs. We went to dinner for our wedding anniversary but that’s about it.   Ergo, BIG FAIL.  I have a friend getting a babysitter so that she and the hubs can have a weekly date night.  I really like that idea.
  • Proof read closer before posting.  (Can I get an “Amen” from my regular readers)    I’ll give myself a B Minuss  😉
  • Learn how to make at least one of the following dishes well:  ropa vieja, chicken tikka masala, spaghetti bolognese or paella.  I did not master any of those, but I now make a mean Chicken Fried Steak, Cajun Chicken Fettucine, French Dip, Pot Roast and Fried Rice.  I’ve even dabbled in cooking fish!   Thanks, Pinterest, Ree Drummond and The Fresh 20! Or “screw you” as my enlarged butt should say.
  • Clean out junk rooms and have shutters installed.   WAHOO!  Shutters installed.  As for the junk rooms, they are not empty, but we’re so close to having everything either stored or prepped for our October garage sale that I consider this one at 80% completion.
  • Purge my wardrobe of clothes and accessories that I do not, should not or rarely wear.   Yes and no.  I got rid of a lot of crap thanks to our pre-garage sale purge last Fall.  But then I got chunky and bought clothes of which I am not overly fond.  Damn you, fat jeans and boxy knit shirts!  Organizational win/fashion fail.
  • Keep my car clean. Sorry, Felix!  I’m working on it…
  • Socialize with more toddy moms.  Yes!  Between neighbors, art class and music class, I’ve managed to meet other moms. That’s been beyond reassuring.  Now, I find other moms of younger kids asking me the same worry-laden questions I did when kiddo and I started socializing.  Surreal!

Now for the hard part…  My 37th Year Resolutions:

  • Unresolved resolutions?   DO OVER!
  • Write at least one blog entry per week
  • F.T.S. so that Emme can one day have a sibling to torture and boss around share in her joy  (kow)
  • Finish the master bedroom makeover
  • Transition the kiddo to her toddler room
  • Commit to hiring a babysitter
  • Regardless of stress levels, avoid nail biting (aka “cannibalism” as one friend calls it)
  • Avoid drowning my next iPhone in the tub, toilet and any liquid-containing vessel

Wish me luck.  I’ll need it.

That, and a big kick to my ass with my own heel.

A Bunny’s Tale

Saturday, March 30th, 2013

I just completed my first stint as the Easter Bunny!  Wahoo!!!

While Em has no clue whatsoever about Easter, I went full speed ahead on putting together a Sesame Street basket filled with Bunny swag.  Two quick trips to Party City and Target, and here’s what took shape:

Instead of candy, it’s choc full o’ toy goodness:

  • Pair of Maracas (They kinda look like eggs!)
  • Plastic Trumpet (We’re working on blowing out candles/blowing on hot food)
  • Mini IKEA Torva Carrot (update 03/31: accidentally stepped on this – it squeaks!)
  • Gymboree Echo Microphone (This didn’t make it into the basket – she got it at art class Friday morning)
  • Small Plush Frog  (She’s been coveting our twin neighbors’ froggie toys)
  • Play Circle Neat & Tidy Cleaning Set (Not exactly basket-sized, but the kid loves to clean!)
  • BabyLit Books – Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights, Dracula & Moby Dick (Thanks to Zulily, we expanded our BabyLit collection.  I considered saving Dracula until Halloween but it’s a counting book and she’s digging those.)
  • Soft 6″ Football (Girls can throw faux pigskin, too!)
  • Glittery Magic Wand (No, this isn’t princessy!   It’s ballet magic!  I’m sure it’ll become a drumstick and weapon before mommy makes it magically disappear) 😉

Here’s hoping she loves it just as much as she hearts the Hoehner Drum her Grammie brought her today.

I’m also crossing my paws that, by this time next year, we can up the game and make flour bunny prints leading to her basket.

Yeah, somebunny’s a big holiday dork like that.